to the winds, and go?

Which?

At last I desided to leave it to Jane. I observed: "I'm forbiden to try
to see him. But I darsay, if you bought some theater tickets and did not
say what the play was, and we went and it happened to be his, it would
not be my fault, would it?"

I cannot recall her reply, or much more, except that I waited in a
Pharmasy, and Jane went out, and came back and took me by the arm.

"We're going to the matinee, Bab," she said. "I'll not tell you which
one, because it's to be a surprize." She squeazed my arm. "First row,"
she whispered.

I shall draw a Veil over my feelings. Jane bought some chocolates to
take along, but I could eat none. I was thirsty, but not hungry. And my
cold was pretty bad, to.

So we went in, and the curtain went up. When Adrian saw me, in the front
row, he smiled although in the midst of a serious speach about the world
oweing him a living. And Jane was terrably excited.

"Isn't he the handsomest Thing!" she said. "And oh, Bab, I can see that
he adores you. He is acting for you. All the rest of the people mean
nothing to him. He sees but you."

Well, I had not told her that we had not yet met, and she said I could
do nothing less than send him a note.

"You ought to tell him that you are true, in spite of everything," she
said.

If I had not decieved Jane things would be better. But she was set on my
sending the note. So at last I wrote one on my visiting card, holding
it so she could not read it. Jane is my best friend and I am devoted to
her, but she has no scruples about reading what is not meant for her. I
said:

"Dear Mr. Egleston: I think the Play is perfectly wonderfull. And you
are perfectly splendid in it. It is perfectly terrable that it is going
to stop.

"(Signed) The girl of the rose."

I know that this seems bold. But I did not feel bold, dear Dairy. It was
such a letter as any one might read, and contained nothing compromizing.
Still, I darsay I should not have written it. But "out of the fulness of
the Heart the mouth speaketh."

I was shaking so much that I could not give it to the usher. But Jane
did. However, I had sealed it up in an envelope.

Now comes the real surprize, dear Dairy. For the usher came down and
said Mr. Egleston hoped I would go back and see him after the act was
over. I think a paller must have come over me, and Jane said:

"Bab! Do you dare?"

I said yes, I dared, but that I would like a glass of water. I s